Humanities weakness.
You attempt to slam the barrel of your rifle down against the snow, but it does nothing. The icy ground offers no resistance, and you keep slipping and sliding toward the ledge. Panic surges through you as you grip the rifle tighter, desperately praying it will catch onto something—anything—to stop your fall. But fate isn’t on your side.
The edge rushes up to meet you, and before you can react, your body tips over. The world spins violently as you plummet through the freezing air. A sharp pain explodes through your chest as you land—impaled on a jagged, broken tree stump.
A gasp escapes your lips, but no sound follows. The pain is unbearable, but only for a fleeting moment. Shock sets in almost instantly, and as your vision fades, the last thing you see is the crimson stain of your own blood spreading across the untouched snow.
Then—nothing.
The edge rushes up to meet you, and before you can react, your body tips over. The world spins violently as you plummet through the freezing air. A sharp pain explodes through your chest as you land—impaled on a jagged, broken tree stump.
A gasp escapes your lips, but no sound follows. The pain is unbearable, but only for a fleeting moment. Shock sets in almost instantly, and as your vision fades, the last thing you see is the crimson stain of your own blood spreading across the untouched snow.
Then—nothing.
